Search result for 'Voices' in Don't Tell Me What To Do: A Spiritual Memoir
"...Voicesoices raged within my head. Often, too frequently, I was unable to tell the difference between the voice of reason, the voice of my own fears, or some other voice. I paced around the room. Anxiety churned in my stomach. I’ve done things in my life that should killed me.
"... Various Party members had given me instructions on how to stage the protest rally. Why hadn't they offered to come here today? I would be the only Black Panther out there standing up to the police. Voices exploded in my head. I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth and went down the steps to the dining room. The aroma of food being cooked made me feel fortunate to be staying with cousin Linwood.
"...Voices was 8:25. The Voices raged on within my head. Slowly and patiently I pulled out into the street. I was unable to think of a reason to go on with my plans for the rally. Yet,
"...fainted. I barely managed to shut the trunk. I decided at that moment that I was going through with it. Voices cheered in my head. When I walked around the corner, on the side of the street where the courthouse stood, I looked as far down the street as
"... did was wrong? Your father is gonna want to talk with you when he gets here, boy!”
Voices converged on me again, scrambling my thoughts, drowning out my voice. I struggled to lock my mind onto a
single thought. I needed clarity to decide where I should go. I politely excused myself ..."
"... onto a
single thought. I needed clarity to decide where I should go. I politely excused myself from the table and went up to my room. I packed up my suitcase, wishing that I could pack the Voices in my head into the suitcase too, deciding, with finality, that I was leaving New London.
I left ..."
"...Voicesfter Frank's passing, I am released from the hospital and transferred to the mental health ward at Temple University Hospital where I would spend the next month. I am placed on anti-psychotic medication to quiet the Voices in my head, al-
"... Ironically, while writing my article, I stop taking my medication, believing that my sanity is restored, that the Voices have been vanquished and permanently shut out from my head. Within days, however, I discover that my self-diagnosis is wrong. I relapse and begin smoking crack.
"... one guy and we walk half a block. “What do you want?” he asks.
“Twenty, Give me a twenty.” I'm impatient. My ears are ringing. The Voices in my head want crack. He pulls out two packages sealed with tape.
“Which one you want?”
“I’ll take either. If they’re both ..."
"... in treatment?” “No.”
“Why are you here?”
“I might have a drug problem.” I think a moment about my answer to his question, deciding to tell him a little more about myself. “Sometimes I hear Voices.”
“What do the voices tell you do? Are your ..."
"... question, deciding to tell him a little more about myself. “Sometimes I hear voices.”
“What do the Voices tell you do? Are your Voices telling you to hurt yourself ?”
“Do you feel that we can help?” “I hope so.”
After three hours of ..."
"... and evaluation by
a medical doctor, nurse, and a social worker, I am prescribed anti-psychotic medications to treat depression and silence the Voices in my head. I am placed in a 21-to-28-day accelerated program designed to rehabilitate addicts with jobs.
"...The medication I was given will not kick in for another week. Voices clamor and bounce around in my head. To try and quiet them, I walk out onto the balcony. I stand on the balcony for several minutes, sucking in the fresh air until the tension in my body and the Voices in my head calm to the point that I
"... want to go home to think things over,” I finally tell him, hoping to end the conversation.
“You suffer from depression. You hear Voices. You can call me anytime if you need to talk.”
“Sure, thanks a lot,” I said, relieved that I can see the train station ahead. I can't wait ..."
"... clear my mind altogether. “Will you be okay for a few minutes? ”She nodded yes.
Loud Voices swelled in my head, making it feel as though someone was screaming directly into ears. I held my head
between my hands. I applied pressure, trying to squeeze the voices out my head. When that ..."
"... my head
between my hands. I applied pressure, trying to squeeze the Voices out my head. When that didn't work, I rotated different thoughts around in my mind, examined each one closely, until I was able to lock onto the thought that might pull me out of the maze I am trapped in.
I walked ..."
"...Voicesed towards the door. My legs were about to buckle, but I managed to get out the door, where I stood at the top of the steps. I saw currents of air swirling around me. I imagined that I could jump off and that the air currents would catch me.
"... said a student. The accusation was
repeated by several other angry students. The bedlam of Voices threatened to explode into rioting when a faculty member, an attractive and petite woman, took to the podium, raised and clapped her hands for order.
“Let us all try to stay ..."
"...Voices talked in my head. I chewed on another piece of brownie, hoping to rebuke the noise screaming at me in my head, demanding that I go up
"...Voicesose cropped, shiny, wavy black hair was also there. My God, he's really dead! The Voices in my head fell silent, My mind riveted back to the time that I nearly shot him. I would never learn why he loved me, why he took
"...Voices my face. I gazed up at the imposing mountain, now completely covered by snow. The view was breathtaking. I tried to get a sense of how I was feeling. I was no longer hearing Voices in my head as much, but
"... The morphine sedated her to the point that
she was no longer conscious enough to open her eyes. “She’s feeling less pain,” said a doctor. “Even though she is heavily sedated, she can hear the Voices around her.”
My mother, worn down and tired out from ..."
"...Voices up the stem off the bed. My fingers are sticky with blood. I take a large piece of crack from the bag, ignoring the fact that my bloody fingers are staining the rock that I am about to
"...Voices the stem to the girl, the bag of crack, and stumble to my feet. “I don’t want anymore,” I tell her. “I’m done.” I go to the door and heave the dresser aside and step into the hallway. I’m hoping that the guy who hit me over the